E. Ant. What are thou, that keep'st me out from the

house I owe? S. Dro. The porter for this time, Sir, and my name

is Dromio. E. Dro. O villain, thou hast stoll'n both mine office

and my name : The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou had'It been Dromio to day in my place, Thou would'It have chang'd thy face for a name, or

thy name for an ass. Luce. within. What a coile is there, Dromio? who

are those at the gate? E. Dro. Let my master in, Luce.

Luce. Faith, no; he comes too late ; And so tell your master.

E. Dro. O lord, I must laugh; Have at you with a Proverb.Shall I set in my staff?

Luce. Have at you with another; that's, when, can

you tell?

S. Dro. If thy name be callid Luce, Luce, thou hast

answer'd him well. E. Ant. Do you hear, you minion, you'll let us in, I trow?

Luc. I thought to have askt you.
S. Dro. And you said, no.

E. Dro. So, come, help, well struck; there was blow for blow...

E. Ant. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whose fake?
E. Dro. Mafter, knock the door harů.
Luce. Let him knock, 'till it ake.

.
E. Ant. You'll cry for this, minion, if 'I beat the

door down. Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of Stocks in

the town? Adr. within: Who is that at the door, that keeps all

this noise ? S. Dro. By my troth, your town is troubled with

unruly boys.

E. Ant.

:(

31

E. Ant. Are you there, wife? you might have come

before. Adr. Your wife, Sir knave! go, get you from the

door. E. Dro. If you went in pain, master, this knave

would go fore. Ang. Here is neither cheer, Sir, nor welcome; we

would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with

neither E. Dro. They stand at the door, master; bid them

welcome hither. E. Ant. There's something in the wind, that we can

not get in. E. Dro. You would say so, master, if your garments

were thin. Your cake here is warm within: you stand here in the

cold: It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought

and fold. E. Ant. Go fetch me something, I'll break ope the

gate. S. Dro. Break any thing here, and I'll break your

knave's pate.

E. Dro. A man may break a word with you, Sir, and

words are but wind; Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not be

hind. S. Dro. It seems, thou wantest breaking; out upon

thee, hind! E. Dro. Here's too much, out, upon thee! I pray thee,

let me in. S. Dro. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fith

have no fin. E. Ant. Well, I'll break in; go borrow me a crow. E. Dro. A crow without feather, master, mean

you so?

For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a fea

ther : If a crow help us in, firrah, we'll pluck a crow together,

E. Ant.

E. Ant. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow.

Bal. Have patience, Sir: oh, let it not be so.
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspeet
Th' unviolated honour of your wife.
Once, this ;- your long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, Sir, but she will well excuse,
Why at this time the doors are barr'd against you.
Be ruld by me, depart in patience,
And let us to the Tyger all to dinner;
And about evening come your self alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And That supposed by the common rout,
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead:
For flander lives

upon succession ;
For ever hous'd, where it once gets poffeffion.

E. Ant. You have prevail'd; I will depart in quiet, And, in despight of wrath, (11) mean to be merry. I know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty, wild, and, yet too, gentle; There will we dine; this woman that I mean, My wife (but, I proteft, without defert,) Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal ; To her will we to dinner. Get you home, And fetch the chain; by this, I know, 'tis made; Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine ;

(11) And, in Despight of Mirth,) In Despight of what Mirth? We don't find, that it was any Joke, or matter of Mirth, to be shut out of Doors by his Wife. I make no Doubt therefore, but I have restor'd the true Reading. Antipholis's Paffion is plain enough all thro' this Scene: and, in the next Act, we find him confessing how angry He was at this Juncture. And did not I in Rage depart from thence? The Circumstances, I think, fufficiently justify my Emendation.

For

hence.

For there's the house: that chain will I bestow,
(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife,).
Upon mine Hostess there. Good Sir, make haste:
Since my own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere; to see if they'll disdain me,

Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour, Sir,
E. Ant. Do los this jest that cost me fome expence.

{Exeunt. SCENE, the House of Antipholis of Ephesus,

Enter Luciana, with Antipholis of Syracuse. Luc. A you 12)

A husband's bffice? shall, Antipbolis, Hateg Ev’n in the spring of love, thy love-fprings rot?, Shall love, in building, grow fo ruinate ? If you did wed my fitter for her wealth,

Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kind,

nefs,

Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;

Muftłe your falle love with some. Thew of blindness; Ler not my fifter read it in your eye;

· Be-not thy tonguérthy own shame's orator;
Look sweet, fpeak fait; become disloyalty:

Apparel vice, like vircue's harbinger;
Bear a fair prefence, tho? your heart be tainted;

Teach fin the carriage of a holy faint;
Be secret-false : what need the be acquainted ?

What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,

And let her read it in thy looks at board: Shame hath a bastard-fame, well managed; Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word:

Alas! (12) And may it be, that you have quite forgot

An Husband's Office ? Shall, Antipholis,
Ev’n in the Spring of Love, thy love-springs rot?

Shall love in buildings grow. fo.ruinater] This Passage has hither.o labour’d under a double Corruption. What Conceit could our

Editors

Alas! poor women, make us but believe, (13)

Being compact of credit, that you love us; Tho'others have the arm, sew us the-fleeve:

We in your motion turn, and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again;

Comfort my fifter, chear her, call her wife; 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,

When the sweet breath of Aattery conquers strife.
S. Ant. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, I

know not; Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine :) Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not

Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;

Lay open to my earthy grofs conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

The foulded meaning of your words deceit; Against my soul's pure truth why labour you,

To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a God? would you create me new?.

Transform me then, and to your pow'r I'll yield. But if that I am I, then, well I know,

Your weeping sister is no wife of mine; Nor to her bed no homage do I owe;

Far more, far more, to you do I decline: Editors have of Love in Buildings growing ruinate ? Surely, they did not dream of Love made under an old Wall? Our Poet meant no more than This. Shall thy Love-fprings rot, even in the Spring of Love? and shall thy Love grow ruinous, ev'n while 'tis but building up? The next Corruption is by an accident at Press, as I take it; This Scene for 52 Lines succesfively is strictly in alternate Rhymes: and this Measure is never broken, but in the Second, and Fourth, Lines of these two Couplets. 'Tis certain, I think, a Monosyllable dropt from the Tail of the 2d Verse, and I have ventur'd' to supply it by, I hope, a probable Conjecture.

(13) Alas! poor Women, make us not believe, &c.] From the whole Tenour of the Context it is evident, that this Negative (not,) got Place in the first Copies instead of but. And these two Monosyllables have by mistake reciprocally dispoffess’d one another in many other Passages of our Author's Works. Nothing can be more plain than the Poet's

Sense in this Paflage. Women, says He, are so easy of Faith, that only make them believe you love them, and they'll take the bare Profession, for the Substance and Reality.

Oh,